


Brooklyn's on Fire

by notlucy



Series: Additional Information [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Birthday, Birthday Sex, Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom/sub Undertones, Kissing, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 10:36:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12629160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notlucy/pseuds/notlucy
Summary: Steve's turning thirty-seven and he really only wants one thing for his birthday.





	Brooklyn's on Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to [Proprietary Information](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11964402/chapters/27054777) that roughly follows the events of chapter 15. This won't make a lot of sense unless you've read the main story, as this one is very much in Steve's head.

Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d been honest-to-God nervous about having someone visit his place. He wasn’t the most social creature in the world - he loved having his very closest friends over, spoiling their kids, planning extravagant movie nights and so on, but he didn’t care for big parties or having a bunch of acquaintances in his space.

So inviting Bucky over for his birthday had been a big step. But Bucky was important. More important than he’d initially realized, in fact. The kid had taken up permanent residence in Steve’s head, occupying the vast majority of his thoughts every day. Said thoughts weren’t all lascivious, either, though there were plenty of those. Some of them were distressingly normal, involving cooking dinner together or going to the movies. Steve could see how Bucky fit into his life so easily that it scared him. He hadn’t let anyone in like that since Erik, and that had blown up so spectacularly he was still smarting.

On the day in question, Sam had taken him out to brunch, which was their usual birthday tradition. They’d gone running first, pushing each other until they were both sweaty messes. Luckily, their brunch place didn’t care, so long as they tipped well.

“You sure you don’t want to come over tonight?” Sam offered, once they had their plates and he was digging into his eggs. “The kids would love to see you - we could make a cake.”

“I’m sure,” Steve replied. He hadn’t told Sam about his plans, but it seemed like he was going to have to lay it out to avoid making odd excuses for not hanging with the Wilson-Carter clan. “I actually...have something else on the docket.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, taking a bite of hash browns. “With Junior?”

“Sam…” Steve hid his smile, because Sam’s nickname for Bucky was funny, but also drove him crazy. “Come on.”

“What? It’s a legitimate question.”

“Yes, with _Bucky_ ,” he emphasized, reaching for his coffee.

“Don’t see how that’s any better than Junior,” Sam said with a smirk.

“Ha ha.”

Sam and Peggy each had their reservations about Steve’s current course of action, and he was well aware of their objections. They weren’t so different from his own, though getting to know Bucky had gotten him over some of his worst fears. Bucky was smart, sharp as a tack and he seemed to know what he wanted. Steve didn’t feel as though he was taking advantage of him, at any rate, and the guilt that had followed him endlessly through their first few dates had receded with time.

(Still, the thought was there: if he wasn’t taking advantage, why were they hiding it? Was the lessening of guilt merely a product of time passing rather than anything else? Did Bucky feel the same about everything? Sure, Bucky was Steve’s favorite person to think about, but he wasn’t a mind reader, and it was hard to figure out what Bucky was feeling about, well, them. He _seemed_ happy and agreeable, but maybe he was just being nice.)

His train of thought was derailed when he realized Sam was speaking, so he tuned back in just in time to hear him finish up. “...plans?”

“Huh?”

“I said, what are your plans?” he repeated, endlessly patient. Sam was the greatest.

“Oh, uh, he’s coming over. I’m gonna cook. Might watch a movie.” Which was, at the very least, the G-rated version of Steve’s plans for the evening. He hadn’t meant to torture Bucky by withholding what they both felt was ‘actual’ sex, by whatever definition they were using, but the timing hadn’t worked out. Steve felt strongly about the fact that Bucky deserved to be treated sweetly, considering the horrific way Steve had stepped in it on Bucky’s birthday. That included making sure their first time was appropriately romantic.

“You’re cooking, on your own birthday?” Sam asked, eyebrow raised.

“I like cooking,” Steve said, defensive, spearing a piece of sausage.

“Uh huh,” Sam replied. “Seems like Junior’s getting the better end of that deal.”

“I invited him,” he said, and he hated having to defend Bucky to his friends, hated that he couldn’t just introduce them. Because if Sam and Peggy could see what he saw, they’d understand why Steve was so crazy about him.

“You want to treat your boy to your cooking for your birthday…” Sam shrugged. “That’s on you, Rogers. Just...do something nice for yourself, too, huh?”

“This _is_ nice for me,” he protested, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get Sam to understand. It was hard for Steve to make anyone understand why taking care of someone else made him so happy, though Peggy came closest to getting it.

* * *

 

A few hours later, he’d headed home, taken some calls from friends wishing him a happy birthday, showered, and started dinner. He was keyed up, pacing, counting down the minutes until Bucky was due to arrive. When his phone started ringing, reflecting the fact that the lobby was calling, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Hey, Tim,” he said, trying to sound casual. “What’s up?”

“Mr. Barnes is here.” Did Tim sound bemused? Surely not.

“Great. I’ll flip the switch.”

“I’ll send him right up.”

Steve had been standing right next to said switch, like a dork, and he flipped it to let Bucky upstairs. He played fifty different scenarios for what to say when he got there in his head as the numbers on the elevator climbed. Yet, when Bucky stepped into the foyer, all he could do was marvel at him, how handsome he was, how much Steve had missed him since their last date.

“Hi,” he managed, reaching a hand out and pulling Bucky in, hugging him tightly and kissing his temple. Bucky wasn’t so much smaller than him, yet when he had him wrapped up like that Steve couldn’t help feeling that they’d been made to fit together. Which was sappy and ridiculous, but hey, Bucky made him sappy and ridiculous.

Bucky returned the greeting, then wished him a happy birthday, which was sweet. Steve didn’t need a fuss about it, though. Birthdays lately had been more about feeling older, bereft. Lonely. Bucky’s presence was enough to mitigate that somewhat, though, and he was grateful to have him there.

Steve pulled back before offering him a tour. Bucky accepted, trailing Steve throughout the apartment, asking questions about certain things, lingering to look at others. Steve wasn’t sure if some of the questions were simply out of politeness, or if Bucky was genuinely curious. His life wasn’t that interesting.

He did notice when Bucky got quiet after asking about the Matisse. And while he found Bucky’s lack of finesse charming, he’d come to realize that Bucky got easily embarrassed when he felt less worldly than Steve. No matter how much Steve wanted to reiterate that being twenty-four meant you didn’t _have_ to be worldly, he knew it wouldn’t mean much in the moment. So he changed tactics, bringing him into the den instead.

Bucky honed in on the picture of Steve and his mother on a shelf almost immediately. Sarah Rogers watched them both from the frame, and Steve wondered what she would think of Bucky. He was reasonably sure she’d like him - how he balanced Steve, made him laugh. Centered him. Made him happy. He thought, maybe, she’d understand better than anyone, and that thought was enough to make tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

“...looks so proud of you,” Bucky said, startling him from his reverie. Which was good, because Steve wasn’t going to let himself get emotional. He didn’t want to freak Bucky out, after all, and crying in front of him over a photograph was a surefire way to send him running for the hills.

“She was,” he replied, changing the subject and inviting Bucky to tour upstairs instead of dwelling on things that made him unhappy.

Bucky was _very_ cute with the way he thought Steve hadn’t picked up on his subtle hints towards the bedroom, but they’d been duly noted. However. The kid was just going to have to wait. Steve had plans.

It came as a surprise, then, when the first thing Bucky did upon entering his bedroom was offer him a present. Steve hadn’t been expecting anything, and finding the sketchbook under the wrapping paper sent an unexpected flood of warmth through him. Bucky was, as Peggy might say, a darling.

“Bucky…” he said, noting the brand. He’d spent some money on this. “Sweetheart, thank you.”

“It’s...I mean, I know you said you don’t draw as much, downstairs, but you’re always talking about art and I know you went to school for it so I just figured you might have some pencils or something somewhere and…”

Bucky was cute when he rambled, and while Steve generally loved listening to him talk, right then he just wanted to kiss him. So he did. “I love it, Buck,” he said when he pulled back. “Thank you.”

“Welcome,” Bucky replied, pulling the bashful thing he did so masterfully. Steve’s hands were already itching to try and capture some of Bucky’s facial expressions, which was saying something considering he hadn’t done work like that in years.

“Maybe I could try sketching you some time,” he said, trying to be casual as he put the notebook down. Bucky would probably think it was a terrible idea. “If you wanted. I’d probably be a little rusty.”

“Really?” Bucky replied. “Why me?”

Unsure if he was into it or not, Steve went for casual. “Because I like you, and I think you’re incredibly handsome, and I’d like to try committing that to the page?”

“Oh. _Incredibly_ handsome, not just like...regular handsome?”

Adorable. Steve could eat him up. “See, you think it’s cute when you go fishing for compliments, Barnes…”

“It’s not cute, it’s strategic. How else will I build up my fragile self-worth?”

Steve watched him, debating whether or not they had time for a quickie before dinner. But: no. Plans. Self-restraint. So he caught himself.  “You’re real fragile, Buck. You wanna get your fragile ass downstairs so we can eat some food?”

“Orrrrr...we could stay up here…?”

Bucky Barnes was a menace and a flirt. Steve had to fight his instincts with every fiber of his being when the kid started rubbing up against him like a damn cat, teasing in that way he had which made Steve wonder whether he really was that coy, or whether he was putting on a bit of a show.

“Patience, sweet boy,” he replied, always a little surprised by the endearments Bucky’s presence brought. “Food first - builds up your stamina.”

The food in question was fine, though Steve was mortified when Bucky brought up the utter disaster that had been his birthday. Steve had been nursing a guilty conscience for months, and while their discussion didn’t clear up everything, it certainly went a long way to making him feel better. Or at least that Bucky had a decent idea of where he’d been coming from when he walked away. Granted, the rejection had led to Bucky going off half-cocked in his office, which had been one of the most infuriatingly wonderful afternoons of Steve’s entire life. But he wasn’t eager to repeat the experience, not least because it was risky. Hurting Bucky was the last thing he wanted to do, and he was bound and determined to keep him happy using whatever means were necessary.

Unless Bucky asked to be hurt. That was a different conversation altogether. Steve was still testing the waters, easing Bucky into things. He’d always preferred a power exchange in bed (and out of it), and while he didn’t necessarily think there was such a thing as a ‘natural’ submissive, Bucky was eager to please, and he seemed to like taking direction. Still, push things too far, and one tended to get burned. So Steve was careful to keep it as light as he could, giving Bucky instructions that were easy to follow, gauging his responses, making sure he seemed content.

Steve didn’t miss the way Bucky’s eyes lit up when he told him to go upstairs and get undressed.

When Steve headed up a few minutes later and found Bucky naked in his bed, cock in his hand, well, it took every bit of Steve’s considerable willpower not to fall to his knees right there.

Instead, he had to live up to expectations. Bucky expected him to be in charge, didn’t he? Steve hoped so, at any rate. He worked on keeping his face neutral as his eyes roamed over Bucky’s body, watching him with practiced nonchalance. “Huh. That’s interesting. Guess I’ll have to make a rule about that.”

The mere idea of that had Bucky stroking himself again, and fuck if he wasn’t the prettiest thing Steve had ever seen.

“Should I stop then?” he asked, all wide-eyed and innocent.

Little shit. Steve adored him. And, of course, was going to make him pay for being such a blatant tease.

Steve took his time, coaching Bucky through near-orgasms several times over, until he was a writhing, whining mess. He was beautiful like that. Steve wanted to wrap him up, kiss away his frustrations, let him come. Patience wasn’t so easy when you had someone like Bucky in your bed.

By the time he cut Bucky off completely, he’d shucked off most of his clothing and watched with a smirk as Bucky just about wept with frustration. And damn, if that wasn’t a turn-on - nearly as much of a turn-on as the way Bucky’s eyes went wide at the idea of sucking Steve off. He’d never seen anyone so eager to get his mouth on a cock. It was, he had to admit, endearing. Despite that, Steve didn’t hold out much hope for Bucky’s cocksucking talent, considering how young he was. Bucky had indicated once or twice that he’d never had a serious relationship before, which tended to mean limited experience.

He was surprised, then, when Bucky proved more than adept at blowing him. To the point that Steve very nearly gave into his baser instincts, wanting desperately to use him, make him choke and cry. But he wouldn’t. Not this time. This time, he wanted to be careful. To show Bucky how important he was, how much Steve adored him.

So he stepped back when he felt his climax close at hand, pulling Bucky up for a kiss instead. He also took the opportunity to close his fingers around the base of his dick until it was just the wrong side of painful, using the sharp sensation to bring himself back from the brink.

“Pretty boy,” he murmured as he pulled away, running his thumb across Bucky’s mouth. His already perfect lips were red, a little swollen, and Steve had to tell him how good he looked. Bucky needed to know. He held himself back from listing the litany of ways he’d like to mess Bucky up further, though. He still had some good sense, even when his brain had stopped working from a severe rush of blood to the dick.

Bucky got bashful again at the praise, as though there was a part of him that was still some blushing virgin. It was charming - made Steve want to be good to him, ease him into everything, make him happy.

It was easy to want that when Bucky was so pliable and accommodating, moving with Steve, whining when he pulled away. His minor complaint about the lube gave Steve an opportunity to swat him, taking a moment to appreciate the light mark his handprint left behind on Bucky’s skin. The idea of _really_ spanking him was undoubtedly in the back of Steve’s mind, and while the intent behind the teasing slaps wasn’t exactly _priming_ the kid for it, he got a little thrill every time Bucky reacted positively instead of pulling away. They’d have to have a discussion, but he didn’t seem to be someone who would find Steve’s particular proclivities to be anathema to him. Unlike some people in Steve’s past, who had been very vocal in their disinterest and, occasionally, their disgust.

Bucky, conversely, was malleable, content to let Steve move him, kiss him, prep him. Steve was careful, wanting to make him as ready as possible, so he took his time, opening him up slowly. Bucky was eager, and when Steve told him he was good, his whole body reacted in a way that had Steve raising an eyebrow. It wasn’t bad - in fact, it was incredible. But maybe it was too good to be true. Maybe Bucky was too good to be true.

By the time Steve had three fingers inside of him, Bucky was shivering a little, and Steve was disappointed to note he wasn’t as hard as when they’d started. First times were never perfect, that much was guaranteed, but he didn’t want Bucky in any real discomfort. He was opening his mouth to ask if they ought to slow down when Bucky piped up.

“I’m as ready as I’m gonna get, Steve, please…?”

Steve wasn’t going to second-guess him. Not when he’d asked so nicely. He was honoring all requests, in fact, including the one in which Bucky requested that Steve keep him on his back and take him that way. The position wasn’t one Steve found himself going to often - he tended to fuck from behind when it was a one-night stand or a friend with benefits. It was different with Bucky, though - with someone he _wanted_ to look at. He wanted to see every bit of Bucky, how he reacted when Steve breached him, the expression on his face when he came.

Unfortunately, sex was messy. Regardless of how much Steve wanted it to be easy on Bucky, by the time he was ready to make a move, some of the romance had disappeared. He was tense, worried he’d inadvertently do something wrong, debating if he ought to take just a few more minutes to get Bucky prepped further.

Bucky - perfect Bucky - chose that moment to use his words again. “Nothing like figuring something out for the first time, huh?”

Steve grinned, he couldn’t help it. He loved the fact that they were in sync - that Bucky seemed to just _get_ him and what he was feeling. He hadn’t had that experience with anyone for a very long time. “You’re perfect,” he replied because he thought he needed to know.

The statement, while hyperbolic, carried an element of truth. Bucky _was_ pretty damn perfect, keening and moaning under Steve’s attentions, vocal about his needs, asking sweetly when he wanted a break. It made things easier on both of them, and Steve couldn’t recall the last ‘first time’ he’d had with someone that had gone so smoothly.

By the time he was wholly sheathed within Bucky, he had to strain to keep himself from moving. Bucky was tense, his body trembling underneath Steve, getting used to the feeling of being filled. Steve checked in with him, and as he wanted Bucky to enjoy himself, too, he reached down to wrap his free hand around Bucky’s cock.

“Does that feel good?” he asked. Bucky squirmed, which felt fucking fantastic, before arching off the bed. Apparently, it felt just fine.

“Fuck, _fuck._ ”

“Oh, very good boy,” Steve replied. Because he was. He was Steve’s very good boy, and the wave of needing to possess him, guard him, keep him was flaring up in Steve’s hindbrain. Especially when Bucky asked him _so_ sweetly to fuck him.

Steve was happy to oblige. When Bucky came on his hand after some more careful attention, Steve couldn’t help licking up the mess. The possessive part of him wanted to taste Bucky. Claim him. It was weird and primal - the part of him that was fully evolved knew how stupid it was. The rest of him didn’t give a shit.

Steve’s good intentions regarding keeping things sweet were rapidly fading as he pumped into Bucky over and over again, chasing his release. His hands dug into Bucky’s hips, harder than he meant, though he didn’t pull himself back. It didn’t take long, climax building low in his belly, his orgasm pulsing through him steadily as he held himself flush against Bucky’s body, loving every moment. Once he was spent, he found he couldn’t hold himself up, so he collapsed onto Bucky’s sweaty body, pressing kisses against his skin.

Those kisses eventually became little bites, because Bucky tasted like salt and sweat and sex - everything Steve loved. Then, just to see what would happen, he tickled Bucky’s side.

The noise that came out of him was nothing short of a giggle, as he wriggled away. It was maybe the cutest thing Steve had ever seen, including tiny babies and puppies in a basket. Bucky was charming, apparently, even naked and well-fucked.

He was also sticky, Steve realized, come and sweat rapidly turning into an itchy mess as they lay together. When he tried to pull away, though, Bucky held him firmly in place, arms and legs wrapping around him in an approximation of a warm and snuggly octopus.

That was fine. Steve wasn’t above a little cuddling.

Ergo, there was cuddling, and showering, and toothbrushing, and discussions of cake. It all seemed to be going well. So when they got back in bed and Bucky piped up, Steve figured he knew what was coming. Or, rather, what wasn’t coming, since he assumed they were going to cuddle up and go to sleep. But Bucky wanted to talk.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m kinda done with this whole trial period thing,”

That was...unexpected. Had the sex been bad? Had he done something wrong? Was it that he hadn’t had cake? He was already thinking of the fifty things he could say to fix it when Bucky spoke up again.

“I mean, I’m not...not done with us. But I’m done with you not being my boyfriend.”

Steve didn’t have a response, at least not at first. He needed to think, though he made sure to keep touching Bucky, not wanting him to feel Steve was pulling away as he sorted through his feelings.

The fact of the matter was that the trial period had been something Steve instituted as a way to keep himself distant, to put up a wall and prevent himself from falling too hard, too fast for this blue-eyed kid from Brooklyn who’d come out of nowhere to upend his life.

But if he was honest with himself, he hadn’t thought about the fact that there _was_ a trial period since their third date. Steve been thinking of Bucky as, well, if not his boyfriend, then at least _something_ beyond casual dating. That made his answer easy, and he was happy to make Bucky happy.

“Okay,” he agreed. “No more trial period. It’s official.”

Bucky seemed pleased with his answer, but he was also on a roll, taking Steve’s yes and immediately asking for something else. “I don’t want to be like…I know work’s important, but never seeing you sucks, and I hate it. I want to see you more, that’s my like...main request. In addition to being my boyfriend.”

“I didn’t know we were doing requests,” Steve replied, to buy himself a little time. His schedule was awful - he’d been back and forth to Wakanda six times in a little over three months. Things were going well, though, and it was likely the in-person trips wouldn’t be _as_ necessary in the future. After briefly thinking through what he remembered of his calendar, he responded. “I can’t promise you anything until later in August. If everything goes right, my part in this whole situation should be done, and it falls to Pepper to do everything else. So can you hang on for another month and a half?”

Bucky managed not to sound _too_ disappointed. “I guess so.”

The fact that he was trying to keep his chin up made Steve smile. It also made him want to do nice things for him, and he was struck by inspiration a moment later, offering to take Bucky on a trip. Alone. Without work complications.

Bucky seemed pleased by the offer. Steve knew just the place.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! Story title for this one comes from Nicole Atkins and her song about Brooklyn on the fourth of July - how could I resist? [Brooklyn's On Fire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hvy9_JuRlBM), if you'd like to take a listen.
> 
> As always, follow me on Tumblr at [notlucy](https://notlucy.tumblr.com) if that's where you find your fic.


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